Page 58 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
I mingle with the crowd, drinking their fruity ale. I noticed many of my personal supporters had slipped into the audience while I spoke. Silvan, Klara, Rainier and Hawthorne sat among the merchants and listened to their whispered comments togather their reactions, while others placed themselves around the room like my personal guard, in case anyone decided they didn’t like what I had to say and reacted violently.
Both Cyprien and my father have large circles of people around them, asking questions of one of their most prominent senators and the human Lord Protector through whom all this promised trade will funnel. I am pushed and pulled in many directions, with hordes of merchants vying for my attention.
“It is the High Chancellor herself who sets the exorbitant prices of food staples!” a man with silver in his hair, broad-shouldered and draped in brocade, bellows at me over the top of others. “We either have to purchase expensive licenses to do the same, which she only gives to a select few, or buy the stock from her once she brings it across our borders. We cannot do our jobs and we cannot compete!”
I place a hand on his arm to calm him. “I will put an end to this as soon as I have secured the throne. Youknowwhat it is like to conduct business under Aldrin’s rule. He would never set such harmful restrictions on your trade.” The man visibly deflates under my touch as much of the tension melts from his body.
A woman with soft pink hair wearing a full fur coat steps forward. “I have contacts in both the Summer and Autumn Courts who have informed me of the cheap prices of the food they export. Frankly, they cannot understand why I am not importing from them and offer me discounts I do not have the license to take up. Titania buys inexpensive produce then grossly inflates the sale price to make a huge profit, plunging the middle and lower classes into deep poverty. She gives grain away for free to the poorest of society, so people believe she is gracious and trying to help them, rather than devastating an entire court.”
“Don’t hold your silence.” I take a step closer to her, peering intently into aquamarine eyes with tears at their corners. “Make sure every fae in this court hears you. It is the only way to stop her. Tyrants must be held accountable and only the people en masse can do that.”
It is while I am hearing the same complaint about debilitating tariffs for the third time that a man with a commanding aura touches my elbow to get my attention. “I am Helios, the head of this guild. May I speak with you in privacy about a rather urgent matter?” He tips his head toward a door and the many beads in his long, thick silver braids clink together. “In one of the sound-warded meeting rooms, perhaps?”
I glance over his shoulder and make eye contact with both Silvan and Hawthorne, who immediately converge on us through the crowd.
“Of course. Show me the way,” I say, following Helios slowly through the press of bodies as the others catch up.
He brings me to a large, ornate space at the back of the guild hall that has many shallow alcoves with mahogany tables and velvet benches. Several have curtains or silk screens that can be drawn over them for further privacy. Helios motions toward one, waiting for me to enter first. My ears pop as I pass through the ward that prevents all sound from escaping.
“This is where we conduct our business meetings. Some trade deals require more secrecy than others.” Helios sits opposite me, then motions toward Silvan and Hawthorne, who have taken positions on the far side of the room. “Are those your men?”
“I do not go anywhere in this city without guards.”
“Wise,” he says. “I will not take up much of your time, but I have information of a sensitive nature that I believe you need to know. That Aldrin can use to his advantage.”
His eyes search me for a long time, then he lets out a long breath.
“Titania has massive warehouses just outside the city, full of a variety of grains, vegetables and even meat. The interiors of many of these buildings are held at cold and freezing temperatures to store the abundance of food, but there is still so much waste, because she prefers to let goods spoil and be discarded instead of allowing them to go to market where the people can access them. The food she stockpiles has been seized by force from Spring farms.” Helios pauses a moment as he cringes. “Most of the merchants in the next room believe Spring crops are failing and that Titania escalates the issue by restricting imports from other courts.”
I lean forward over the table. “Do you know the locations of these warehouses?”
He pulls a thin piece of parchment from the top pocket of his well-fitted surcoat and taps it on the table. The scent of fresh ink rises from it and I wonder if he scribbled it down immediately after my speech.
“This is a well-guarded secret. One I only discovered weeks ago. It cannot be exposed to the people, because they would ravage and destroy the warehouses in a day. The information has been brought to the Senate and they did nothing with it. There was no higher authority to go to, until now. I believe my colleagues would get themselves killed trying to go after this bounty. I hope I am making the right choice in giving this information to you.”
A chill runs down my spine as he holds out the list of locations. I reach across the table and take it from him. “You have made the right choice, Helios. One that the rightful crown will not forget. I will make sure this food gets into the hands of the people as peacefully as possible.”
He crumples into his seat. “As a man who grew up as an orphan and knows what true hunger feels like, I really hope so.”
I leave the merchants’ gathering within the hour and visit the guild of artisans, who are far more inebriated and free of tongue when I arrive. They cannot create and sell their wares until they are “approved” by Titania, in the form of hefty bribes. If they refuse, their businesses are destroyed by unfair laws or simply burned to the ground.
I implore them to fight against this injustice from the shadows. To paint counterpropaganda posters or sculpt stone statues of Titania and display them in the city, all depicting her as a tyrant standing on top of people being crushed beneath her heeled boots.
The next night I talk before dozens of writers who gather in the Kingsmen Tavern. They cannot speak freely or even report the truth in their newspapers and political flyers. Many who have done so disappeared the same night after a targeted visit from the Truth Templars.
I convince them to keep publishing under aliases, exposing the High Chancellor’s corruption in a discreet operation that cannot be traced back to them.
Then, in a closed-off courthouse, I meet with the lawmakers, judges and orators who defend the people. All have been silenced by Titania and had their practices taken away because of their high morals and refusal to break laws for her.
Only those who are willing to enact her very illegal will have kept their jobs. I encourage each of them to take to the stages at taverns, to speak at congregations in private homes, to spread the word of how the justice system has been destroyed.
The High Chancellor has a near cult-like following, and this is a very real threat to combat.
Each one of us has our role to play in bringing down the tyrant. In disillusioning the masses from her false charm andhollow promises, so that when I make my move against Titania with Aldrin at my side, the people rise up not against us, but beside us.
My heart hammers with the thrill of anticipation as Belladonna and Valentine wrap their shadows around our party of assassins. Dante moves to my side, gripping my shoulder and squeezing it as that cold, silky darkness swallows us whole. I will never get used to this feeling of falling through nothingness for long periods of time, my entire body weightless and numb.
I have spent days negotiating with my new allies and recruiting assassins willing to back my cause. The order is less of the expected totalitarian regime and more of a hierarchical family, where the members are respected as individuals who can refuse a contract.
